


Sick, Secluded in Hatred

by wowzaKy



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Study, Hurt No Comfort, Jack Manifold-centric, Jack's streams got me crying, Spoilers for the March 1st Streams, speedran this bad boy to cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowzaKy/pseuds/wowzaKy
Summary: When he was younger his ma took him to one of those puppet shows. Outside, under the sun in the village square, sitting crisscross with the other kids, he laughed as flimsy wooden marionettes danced in a flimsy cardboard frame.When it was done, the story all wrapped up and sky setting a pinky orange hue behind the shingled roofs, the puppets were set down on their stage. Strings dropped and still.Staring out at Pandora’s Vault from the safety of To- his hotel (silent. It is so very silent), Jack Manifold has never felt more like a puppet.OR, a character study on Jack Manifold, based off of the March 1st Streams.
Relationships: Jack Manifold & TommyInnit
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	Sick, Secluded in Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone, i am sad, hbu?
> 
> (title from Wilbur Soot's "Saline Solution")

When he was younger his ma took him to one of those puppet shows. Outside, under the sun in the village square, sitting crisscross with the other kids, he laughed as flimsy wooden marionettes danced in a flimsy cardboard frame.

When it was done, the story all wrapped up and sky setting a pinky orange hue behind the shingled roofs, the puppets were set down on their stage. Strings dropped and still. His ma gathered him up then, ushering him home, but his eyes never left the puppets, not until he was pulled around the street corner, out of sight.

Even still. All night he thought about them, those stupid wooden puppets, and how lifeless they were without their puppeteers. How they looked crumpled there, nothing more than a pile of sticks with strings. Cut loose and useless once their story was done.

Staring out at Pandora’s Vault from the safety of To- his hotel (silent. It is so very silent), Jack Manifold has never felt more like a puppet.

It was Tommy’s idea, in the beginning. That he join Dream’s server.

“Come on, Jack!” Tommy crowed, “It’ll be fun, an adventure- don’t be a bitch.”

“I don’t know…” Jack fiddled, nervous, with his glasses, as around them the Hypixel Lobby raged its usual chaos.

Tommy clapped him on the back, all gangly limbs and ears he’d yet to grow into (he never really did, in the end, never got the chance, did ‘e?), grinning up at him with his too-sharp canines, “Jack- Jack, where else are you gonna go?”

He’d packed his bags that night.

What happened? Where did they all go wrong?

Before today, Jack wouldn’t hesitate to place the blame on Tommy. He’s the reason for all the wars, the needless bloodshed. Why Jack spent this last year practically homeless. Why all his friends were scattered, scarred child soldiers. Tommy’s the reason for it all.

Tommy, who never listened. Tommy, who never apologized and never took “no”. Tommy, who swore and fought and laughed in God’s face.

Tommy, who was gone.

There is something wrong with him, Jack thinks, to feel like this when he wanted this. He wanted this. Wanted Tommy dead by his own hand, even. Which, of course, didn’t happen. Just another thing to add to the list of failures that form his life nowadays, right? Tommy flipping him the bird from beyond the grave, one last fuck you.

Heh. Typical.

There is something wrong with him. A burrowing sensation below his gut, his guilt (guilt? What’s he got to be guilty for? What has Jack ever done that has ever mattered? He’s just a puppet; a lifeless, shitty puppet all alone in his flimsy cardboard hotel that’s not even his. Not really) a worm eating away at his insides. He feels cored out, empty. Why?

Why does he feel like this when he’s supposed to be celebrating?

This is what he wanted, after all. Tommy dead- Dream too, but he supposes prison is good enough.

(it’s not. It’s not good enough and it did nothing to stop the bastard from beating Tommy’s last life out with his bare hands. How’s that for security? Do they all feel safe, knowing the evil is locked away but still able to snuff out their light? Jack’s starting to think he never should’ve joined this hellhole of a server. He’d be better off playing Bedwars).

This is- This is what Jack wanted.

For the first time in a long time, Jack has no fucking clue what he wants. Walking down the Prime Path, hands curled into the pockets of a revolutionary uniform that should’ve burned with the country it failed to revolutionize, he takes it all in with the air of a man on death row. Glazed eyes brushing over houses and people who are bickering and laughing and going on as if the world hasn’t just turned on its axis. Everything is duller, somehow, without Tommy. Duller in a way it wasn’t even when he was away in exile, because at least then he was alive.

Not that Jack wants Tommy alive.

It is the opposite, really. But.

Jack observes the server around him and doesn’t understand. How are they all acting so normal? So- so bloody casual? At least Sam seemed sort of choked up under his mask of professionalism. The others, however…

He doesn’t understand how he’s the only one who seems to care that Tommy’s dead. God, and he wasn’t even Tommy’s friend! Not anymore! He was planning to kill the kid, for Christ’s sake!

But he sees Foolish skip past, arms full of sandstone. Always sandstone, with that one. He’s speaking joyfully into the communicator at his ear, not a care in the world.

But he sees Puffy wrapping up a rose bouquet through the tinted windows of her flower shop, probably for Niki, who knows. There is a smile on her lips. Does she know? About Tommy? He can’t imagine she does, but with the reactions he’s seen so far he can never be certain.

But he sees Ranboo bent at the waist, chortling next to Tubbo who is wheezing in turn. Like his best friend wasn’t brutally beaten by his abuser. Fuck.

Fuck.

It feels like the world is ending but Jack’s the only one who knows. Like the sky is falling and today’s their last day alive but there’s nothing he can do about it, so he does nothing.

It was Tommy who introduced him to Tubbo.

“This bitch boy is Toobo,” Tommy cackled, dragging Jack on a server tour his first day there, “don’t get too close, big man, he’s clingy and shit. Never let you go once ‘e gets his hands on ya.”

“Shut up Tommy.” The shorter boy fondly rolled his eyes, shoving Tommy to the side to stick out his hand for Jack to shake. He did. “I’m Tubbo. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jack Manifold!”

“Just Jack, actually.”

“Right. Well, Jack Manifold, I can tell we’re going to be great friends, surely.”

“Big T, don’t go an’ replace me, what the fuck!”

Tubbo laughed, “I could never.”

And as he watched the pair try and push each other off the Prime Path, Jack knew he’d never regret moving here.

Jack wished he left this damned server when he had the chance. He still could, really, but the thought makes him strangely queasy. He has nothing. Absolutely fuck all. For a while, he’d had his revenge. He’d had plots in the dead of night with Niki and nuclear bombs to build with Tubbo and a Sam Nook to dodge.

He’d had Tommy.

But their plans failed and the nukes missed and Sam Nook stopped trying to stab him when he got an official job at the hotel (though he did still get a mean stink eye).

But Tommy is dead.

Jack Manifold has nothing now but the server itself.

He wouldn’t even be here, if not for Tommy-fucking-Innit, and now it’s all he has.

Figures.

Tommy’s shitty dirt shack stands before him. Jack… doesn’t remember walking here.

It is silent. No one else around. Just him and Tommy’s shack.

The feeling in his gut grows.

It is empty.

He is empty.

It was Tommy who gave him a place to stay, before he built Manifold Land.

“You’re all homeless, eh?”

Jack sighed, “I suppose so, yeah. It _is_ my first day.”

“Well, can’t have you dying on your first night, wouldn’t be very pogchamp of me.”

“Wha- dying? You really think I’m dumb enough to get killed by some mob? I’m no noob, Tommy.”

“Sure, sure! Anyways, have I told you ‘bout that time I spawn killed George, it was _hilarious_ -“

Jack is pretty sure his strings have been snapped. Assuming he was ever important enough to be one of the puppets to begin with. He’s not stupid, he knows he’s never been the main character of this story. Knows he’ll never reach center stage, no matter how hard he tries. And hell if he didn’t try. And try. And try.

Regardless, it seems Jack is destined to be a background character, a stepping stone for the true protagonists.

Like Tommy.

God, it all comes back to Tommy, doesn’t it?

Without Tommy, what is Jack? Some nobody with a hotel?

A big, silent hotel. A big, silent, _empty_ hotel.

What happened to them?

It was Tommy who gave Jack a purpose.

“I’m glad you joined, big man.” Tommy whispered to him the next morning as they watched the sun rise, sat atop Tommy’s roof.

“Huh?” He’d replied, eloquent as ever.

Tommy waved him off, “Nothing, nothing. Want to see my carrot farm?”

And for the first time in his life, Jack felt like he was okay. Like he could be happy.

Three months later Jack watched his land burn for Tommy’s words and he felt something smolder in his throat. His wooden limbs set aflame with the need for vengeance.

He was going to make Tommy suffer the same he had.

He was going to kill Tommy with his bare hands.

Too bad Dream beat him to it.

Before he leaves, he burns his house to a crisp.

This feels like an end. 

This feels like a beginning.

He does not flinch as he walks away from the smoking remains, even as soot stings his eyes and flames lick his ankles.

Jack throws up in the trash can behind the hotel counter. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to name a reason. He’s not sick. He’s not anxious. He’s just… tired.

He is so very tired.

“Jack?” Niki.

“Jack, are you okay?”

Is he okay?

No, probably not, he thinks, why are you?

Wiping his mouth, he straightens up, squares his shoulders.

“I’m fine Niki, just had a bad potato, I’d say.”

She grins, eyes glittering something sharp, “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Tommy is finally dead!” Niki giggles and she looks like Wilbur, near the end.

Jack swallows, shoves the feeling in his gut away and picks up his strings (even with Niki here, it is still so very, very silent). Plasters a smirk on his face (painted and fake) and laughs. It sounds like cracking glass.

Why? He should be happy. He thought he’d be happy (everyone else is).

This is what he wanted, after all.

“Finally!” Jack cheers, and he is so tired, “Tommy is dead.”

(outside, it is silent)

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my beta for this, Bougie, you are literally the best <33
> 
> I had a funny jack running the hotel fic planned but today happened and now i am sad lmao
> 
> After today's streams, everyone should go outside, hydrate, and read some fluff. If you're reading sad fanfiction like I am, you are failing but i send love your ways anyways. Stay safe out there, folks, and thanks for reading!


End file.
